


panalangin

by Ligaya Camaclang (flowerific_12)



Series: mabinaldo drabbles [1]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Catholic Character, Catholic Rosary, Latin Inaccuracies, M/M, Minor Violence, Roman Catholicism, Spanish Inquisition, general!aguinaldo, imbes na mag-aral sinapian talaga ako para gawin to, priest!pole, sila durch and bukkun kasi ih tae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:12:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16343984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerific_12/pseuds/Ligaya%20Camaclang
Summary: There were many moments in his life where Pole had turned to the lord for comfort, when his anxieties threatened to triumph over his sense of reason. This was one of them.





	panalangin

_**"Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,"** _

The sky bled violent tangerine across what was once a gentle morning view as Father Mabini hunched over the altar. The setting sun's glow languidly dripped down the pearl-white walls of his office, slow, yet steady like the anxieties that started to suffocate his usually guarded mind.

_**“Ora pro nobis peccatoribus,”** _

Within his trembling, white-knuckled hands laid one of his rosaries, green beads denting harsh scarlet against his palms. Fear flooded his veins that trailed from the ridges of his knuckles, poison leading straight into his heart. Though burning bright, the revolution was a flame that had kindled too early. So many people had been abducted-  _murdered_. He knew each and every one of the names screamed with sorrow and grief, with their dead eyes imprinted in the priest’s memory, haunting him past sleep.

He hopes he doesn’t hear Miong’s name anytime soon.

_**“Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.”** _

The mere thought of it happening feels like hot iron curling Mabini’s insides. His hands shake even more, but the painful press of the beads goes unnoticed. Instead, he clutches it even harder, pleading and pleading and pleading.

_**“Dominus eleison.”** _

_Lord have mercy._

Mabini opens his eyes and the room was baptized in blood orange. His gaze floats over to the empty space between his other rosaries, and he pictures the iron beads clutched in Miong’s war-hardened hands like the ones within his own. A shaky exhale leaves his lips.

He prays again.


End file.
